


Yellow Ribbon

by vaderina



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Poor Percival has a lot of doubt, Post-War
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-13
Updated: 2018-07-13
Packaged: 2019-06-09 19:26:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,296
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15274596
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vaderina/pseuds/vaderina
Summary: Percival returns from the war and is unsure of his welcome back home. So he asks Newt to tie a yellow ribbon around the old oak tree if he's still wanted. If there is no yellow ribbon he'll stay on the bus and never bother Newt again.





	Yellow Ribbon

**Author's Note:**

> Because it's all based off this song: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oKL6bmiuLmg

The war had been long and it had been cruel. Percival had done things he wasn’t proud of, things that needed to be done but they left him waking up in a cold sweat at night. All he wanted was to go home now, find his happiness which had felt so far out of reach on the battlefields. His stomach churned in worry at the prospect, worry of being not accepted after all he had done was a very real concern. During the war he’d become as close to a monster as a human could come. It was kill or be killed and he’d tried to be as merciful as possible but it didn’t stop the fact that he’d ended life indiscriminately because his opponent had simply been born in a different country so fought against him rather than alongside him. The senseless loss of life had been gruelling. Percival knew he was coming back as a changed man.

There was no way he wanted to inflict himself on anyone, let alone those who loved him before the war and may have felt obliged to love him after too. Love shouldn’t be forced, it should be given freely and with a smile. That was something Percival strongly believed in. So he did everything in his power to make sure he wasn’t returning to shroud what was a happy life in misery. The letters he sent once it was clear the war was winding down were hard to write. They were filled with brutal honesty, he bared his soul in those letters, outlined the ways he’d changed. Not just the physical changes where his hair was more white and silver than black now, how his scars had multiplied into thick silvery lines across his back and chest, pock marked his shoulder from shrapnel he couldn’t stave off. He walked with a cane now, the time a trench had collapsed in and his leg had caught and twisted under the rubble as he’d tried to pull someone out of harm’s way. The fact it had been a prisoner of war who’d turned on him as soon as they realised they were free and he was trapped still twisted his heart with a weary ache.

But there were other changes too. While Percival had never been a sound sleeper now he woke up frozen with fear and a cold sweat drenched the bedsheets. What was worse was that he preferred the nights he woke up with a scream caught in his throat as he thrashed because on those night he could move rather than feel pinned to the bed by an invisible weight on his chest that threatened to engulf him whole. The fact Percival couldn’t cast a patronus charm anymore was an almost a footnote in his list of faults. He felt guilty as he wrote it though, an admission of his own failings and a declaration that his memories of better times and better people were not enough to keep him happy.

Writing the letters took a lot out of him. Even worse was sending them and knowing he wouldn’t get a response. A week after he posted them their regiment was called back home. Relief and terror flooded through Percival at that. Finally he was done fighting. He could go home. If there was still a home waiting for him. The desperate hope clung to his heart as Percival sank onto the seat of the bus. There was nothing for it but to wait and see. He’d given Newt the decision, his heart and fate rested in the hands of a man who he hadn’t seen in coming up to three year. In the final letter Percival had made a simple suggestion. His hand shook as he’d written it, well aware that he may well have been signing his own breakup offer. But it wasn’t fair to Newt to make him take Percival back, suffer through the realisation that the man who had come back from the war was not the one he sent off teary eyed. So Percival did the kindest thing he could, offered Newt an out. The simplicity of it was almost beautiful. Newt didn’t have to take Percival back, didn’t even have to see him if after the letters where Percival outlined his shortcomings he felt it was too much. In fact Percival was half sure that Newt wouldn’t want him back. So he asked Newt to tie a yellow ribbon around the old oak tree. It was near the bus stop he’d have to get off if he was returning home. The bus would drive past it and if there was a ribbon there Percival would take his bags and disembark, return home. But a lack of ribbon would let him know not to bother getting off, he wasn’t welcome any more. If that happened then Percival didn’t know where he would go, but he’d take the bus as far away from the place he had called home before the war. He didn’t want to hurt Newt or look like he was taking the choice away from him after all. If there was no ribbon then he’d stay on the bus and do his best to forget. He couldn’t very well blame Newt for choosing not to want him back, it wasn’t like Newt was the one who went gallivanting off to war and returned almost unrecognisable.

The bus rolled through towns and villages, tired men and women got off. Some to a teary eyed partner, others to a whole gathering of friends and family. Percival tried not to let envy cloud his happiness for the others. How he wished he could be greeted back with as much love and enthusiasm. But he knew he didn’t deserve it, wasn’t worthy of being accepted back home. His stop was coming closer and closer. The roads began to look familiar. In a final act of cowardice Percival ducked his head. He couldn’t bring to watch the old oak tree pass by the window, barren of any yellow ribbon.

A murmur went through the bus followed by some laughter. For a moment Percival thought they knew of his letters, knew that he so badly hoped for a yellow ribbon and they were laughing at his expense. But nobody knew of what he’d asked of Newt. He couldn’t have lived with the public shame of being rejected so openly. Percival raised his head and looked out the window. They were on the edge of the village, the oak tree in full view from the front window. Except there was no oak tree there. In its place was a mass of yellow ribbons. Each branch and twig was carefully tied with a yellow ribbon with a giant yellow sash across the trunk. Percival stared at it slack jawed as they drove past it. The rest of the road fared no better. Lamp posts were adorned in yellow ribbon, yellow balloons were tied to fences, bouquets of daffodils were scattered down the road amongst the buttercups.

The whole bus cheered when they finally pulled up at the stop. Percival stumbled to get up, almost forgetting his bag, his cane and everything else in the haste to get off. There was a tall figure waiting by the door. Red hair clashed horribly with the yellow waistcoat, not to mention the yellow ribbon tied around a slender throat like a collar. Percival’s bag thudded to the ground as he threw it down the stairs of the bus and hobbled down after them. As soon as his feet hit the ground arms were wrapping around him and pulling him in.

“Welcome back,” Newt muttered into his hair as Percival fisted his shirt and clung to him. Finally he was home.

**Author's Note:**

> Tumblr - @ladyoftheshrimp - prompts always welcome.


End file.
